


Copper not gold

by MPantrochilles



Series: The Children of Heroes [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Fluff, anniversary of the battle of hogwarts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-12
Updated: 2016-09-12
Packaged: 2018-08-14 18:11:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8023924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MPantrochilles/pseuds/MPantrochilles
Summary: Teddy visits his parents' graves, as he does every year. But today is a bit different.





	Copper not gold

Teddy was always the first to wake up- especially on May 2nd. It had been that way for as long as he could remember, and probably before. When he was little, he would climb into bed with Grandma Andy, and she would tell him that she loved him very much, as she did every morning, and then she would tell him that his parents would be very proud of him, as she did whenever she felt he needed it, and then she would smile sadly, her voice would crack, and she’d grab the photo on the bedside table of his mum and dad. They were young, and happy, and beautiful. His mum- with hair as blue as his, though she usually kept it pink, would smile up at him, and then down at her hands on her pregnant belly, and then at his dad, who was stood behind her. Then his dad would run his hands down from her shoulders, and place his hands over hers and kiss her cheek. Teddy had seen the photo and the movements one thousand times over, but every time he’d notice something different.

His mum had one yellow eye and one brown.

His dad had five scars on the side of his face. One of them was longer by half a centimetre than the rest.

His Mum’s hair had flecks of pink in it, like she was about to change it.

His dad slouched like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders, but when his mum smiled at him; he beamed brighter than the sun.

Their wedding bands were copper, not gold, because they hadn’t been able to get to their vaults during the war.

Grandma would tell him about the Battle of Hogwarts, and how brave they were. Every year it became less like a fairy tale, as she’d reveal a little more of the truth. They’d go to Godric’s Hollow after that, and then they’d go to Harry’s.

When Teddy went to Hogwarts, he held his head high on May 2nd. He kept a copy of the photo in his pocket, and would ignore the stares of the few first years who were awake as early as he was, as he made his hair bluer than blue and strode to the headmistresses office, where Harry would be waiting for him. They’d apparate to Godric’s Hollow, and Harry would visit his parents and Teddy would visit his. He’d place down the flowers he’d taken from the Greenhouses with Neville’s permission, tell them everything that had happened that year, as if they weren’t always watching over him, as Grandma told him they were, and he’d tell them he loved them.

When he wasn’t sure if you could love someone you never met, but Grandma told him of course he could love his mum and dad. He’d asked, once, what it meant to love someone- and Grandma had told him that it meant they changed your world for the better. They make it brighter. He’d changed his hair to bright green, and asked if he made her world brighter. She’d laughed and kissed his head- yes he did. Every day.

When he was old enough to apparate himself, he’d go as the sky turned from purple to red, and come back when the sun was white instead of yellow. Victoire would appear with a pop as he reached the gates, she’d take his hand and kiss his cheek, telling him that she loved him very much. They would ring on Harry’s door before heading back to school, and he and Ginny would invite them in for tea. Nobody in their family went to work on May 2nd. There were never lessons at school- the teachers took their moment to remember their fallen loved ones, or go home to be with them.

When Teddy was 25, he cried as he sat at the end of their graves, not caring that his blue jeans were getting covered in mud- it had rained during the night.

“I’m as old as you were, Mum,” he whispers very quietly. “I don’t think I could have done what you did.” He’d screamed at them before, furious at them for leaving him, furious at the world for taking them away, and he’d collapsed to his knees, wiping his tear stained face as he apologised.

He let the tears flow this time, pulling his knees up to his chest. Grandma Molly teased that he was the perfect combination of the two of them, tall and gangly like Remus and soft and colourful like Tonks.

“I’m not as brave as you were,” he sniffles, and then he feels a hand on his shoulder. He turns, and it’s Victoire, in a black lace dress. She mourns on May 2nd and shows it. Her face is blurry, and he can’t tell if it’s because he’s been crying or because the sun behind her head is creating an impossibly bright halo.

She sits next to him, and lets him rest his head on her shoulder as she strokes his hair.

“You are as brave as them,” she says thoughtfully after a while, and he sighs.

“No, Victoire, I have not had to fight like them-”

“And I hope you never have to- but you have had to be brave, for yourself, in many other ways.”

“They don’t count.”

“So Uncle George looking in the mirror every day, despite it nearly destroying him because he sees Fred and not his own reflection, is not brave?”

“No it is-”

“And Aunt Ginny writing a diary to convince herself that it’s not going to kill her isn’t brave?”

“Of course it is-”

“And Alice venturing into the Forbidden Forest, despite having lost her legs there, to help her dad find various plants for his new remedy to help survivors of the cruciatus curse, isn’t brave? And neither is Lily for speaking up in class although it takes her three minutes to ask one question because of her stutter? And neither is Hugo for speaking at all, despite the fact that he hates it because he struggles with forming words?”

“Obviously it is-”

“So why is that different to you? Don’t you tell me that being brave for you don’t count.”

“Doesn’t count.”

“Stop trying to change the subject. Teddy, you have had to fight prejudice against werewolves since day one. You have had to fight for your pronouns- that fucking professor- not using “them” because it’s not grammatically correct-”

There had been one fateful day, in Teddy’s fifth year, when he’d asked if he could be referred to as “their” rather than “he”. He’d offered to write down his pronouns everyday on a little piece of parchment and leave it on his desk, as they did change every now and again. (Right now, on his twenty fifth May 2nd, Teddy was he.) When Teddy had asked his family and friends, they’d all been very supportive, so his teacher refusing for such a petty reason was like a slap to the face.

However, the incident had sparked the rise of the Hogwarts’ LGBTQ+ club- which was still going today, Rose informed him.

“Victoire-”

“Sorry, I still get cross.”

“I know.”

At times like this, he was reminded how much he loved Victoire. She helped him make sense of a world that was very difficult to navigate. After a while, he stands, and grabs Victoire’s hand.

“Let’s go.”

She gets off the floor with an “oof” and tries to clean her dress as they make their way, hand in hand, to Harry’s. They sit and have tea, as they do every year, and they talk about everything but the war and the people they lost. The conversation is part of the routine: yes, Teddy and Victoire will be going to Grandma Molly’s as they do every year- yes they will go and get the kids from Hogwarts, as they do every year. No, they won’t forget Alice, they know that Neville is in St Mungo’s all day but she already went that morning. Yes, they will ask Scorpius if he would like to come, and they will tell him to extend the invitation to Mr Malfoy. 

They go back home, and Teddy sits with one of his tomes that has his dad’s scrawl all over it, as he tries to glean any more information that he might have missed for defensive spells. This year he finds one to ward off nightmares.

Victoire listens as he talks and talks, and bakes a Victoria sponge- the first cake Grandma Molly taught her to bake and a best seller at her bakery. Tomorrow, on May 3rd, he would try to recreate the cake for her birthday, as he did every year. He’d then fail miserably, as he did every year, and go and ask Grandma Molly to help. She’d bake the cake; he’d ice it with “HAPPY BIRTHDAY VICTOIRE” in bubble gum blue. Victoire had been born at 11:59 on May 2nd\- and so she celebrated her birthday on May 3rd. She loved birthdays, and knew how important May 2nd was for everyone, so she had decided, age four, to celebrate the next day. “Birthdays should not be sad.”

That was why, even though Uncle George hated his birthday, she’d bake two cupcakes for him and deliver them to the shop. Every year, they’d be a different flavour, but she’d always write “I think Fred might’ve like this one” on a little card inside the box. It made George smile.

Teddy stops talking for a moment to watch her, as she dances around the kitchen. She doesn’t really dance, but every movement is so practiced and precise it may as well be.

“Marry me.” He says, and the dancing stops. She turns to him with an eyebrow raised.

“What?”

“Marry me,” he repeats, louder and stronger this time. He’s been thinking about asking her to marry him a lot lately, but he needed to get a ring and come up with the perfect time. He hadn’t meant to ask her in that moment, but it had happened, and he didn’t regret it.

A slow smile grew across her face, as she put the batter bowl down on the counter. She walked over to him, and leaned on the back of the sofa he was sat on. He turned and knelt on his knees, sinking into the sofa cushions as he looked up at her with a small smile of his own.

“Of course I’ll marry you, mon amour,” she breathes, and it’s just about loud enough for him to hear. She kisses him gently, and he places his hands on her hips. When they pull apart he’s grinning from ear to ear.

“I love you more than anything,” he says and she raises an eyebrow and smirks.

“Even more than you love Victoria sponge?”

“Even more than Victoria sponge.”

“That is quite the declaration of love then.”

Teddy laughs, and Victoire laughs too as she takes his hands and drags him into the kitchen. She picks up where she left off, stirring the flour into the batter, and Teddy stands behind her with his hands around her waist and he kisses her cheek.

“We should get copper wedding rings,” she says, and then nods in agreement with herself. He is sure he’s going to cry. He does not deserve her and her brilliance.

She makes his world brighter, he thinks- and he notices, in the reflection of them in the metal of the cooker hood, that there are pink flecks in his blue hair.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you like this one! I'm not entirely sure I do- it might get quite a few edits.


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